I Am This Murim's Crazy Bitch-Chapter 262: The Appearance of the Divine Dragon (17)

The Moonlight Sword Form was always an inconvenient sword style.

Every move required a different type of sword—different length, different weight, different shape. Some forms couldn’t even be performed without specific weapons.

It didn’t even distinguish between swords and sabers. As Namgung Sinjae once said, it was probably a relic of ancient martial arts, back when a blade was just a blade, regardless of its type.

Hmm. Sword Master, Sword Sage, whatever you want to call it. Even Sword Immortal or Sword Emperor, if you like.

Namgung Sinjae always acted like she knew everything about swords. But this time, she was wrong.

The Moonlight Sword Form wasn’t about wielding multiple swords.

It was about holding whatever happened to be in your hand—a long branch, a short stick, a swaying willow bough, a metal rod, even a wooden spoon.

Anything you could grip was a sword.

Before Qing realized it, she found herself standing in front of a wall.

A towering wall that stretched high enough to block out the entire sky, separating her from whatever lay beyond.

There was no way to see what was on the other side.

Embedded in the wall was a massive iron door.

It was so wide that Qing would have to sprint to get from one side to the other. The hinges alone were twice her height, extending upwards into infinity.

Qing snorted, a crooked smile tugging at her lips.

Despite its imposing appearance, the wall was plastered with all sorts of tiny signs and notices—keep out, danger, no entry, turn back—written in various languages and styles.

It looked more like a modern art installation than a gate.

Well, I guess this is what they mean by “breaking through a wall,” huh?

A real wall? Seriously? And if I open this door, I’ll become a transcendent martial artist or something?

Fine then. Let’s see what’s behind it.

Qing clapped her hands together, dusting them off, and pressed both palms firmly against the door.

With all her might, she shoved.

Creeeeeak! The iron door groaned like a wounded beast.

Qing gritted her teeth, muscles straining as she pushed.

And then, a voice echoed from behind her.

“You trying to go beyond?”

Qing turned her head. A little girl stood there, holding a beautifully polished wooden branch.

The branch was so well-made that even though it was just a piece of wood, it was almost tempting to reach out and take it.

Hmm. The Nine Heavens Mystic Maiden, perhaps?

“Does it matter? Anyway, you’re really going to go? You don’t even know what’s out there. Aren’t you scared? Haven’t you heard? ‘The world outside the blanket is dangerous.’ And if even outside the blanket is dangerous, what do you think it’s like beyond that door?”

Qing hesitated.

Oh. Is this... a warning?

The girl burst out laughing, a sharp, almost mocking sound.

“What lies beyond that door is a world of starlight. Go on. Listen.”

“Listen to the monstrous evil that waits for you. It’s been waiting for you to step outside. Waiting to devour you.”

A terrifying roar echoed from beyond the wall, shaking the ground.

A sound of pure malice, a howl of unfiltered hatred.

It called out to Qing.

Come on. Come closer. I’ve been waiting for you.

I’ll show you how laughable your so-called suffering has been.

I’ll tear every organ from your body and put them on display, one by one, until you’re trapped in endless, immortal agony.

Qing’s legs shook. Not just her legs—her hands, her whole body trembled.

Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, and the fear coursing through her veins was so intense it felt like her heart might burst.

“See? Isn’t it better to stay here and wait?”

“If you just wait long enough, the answer will come to you. One day, a mission will arrive, a path to transcendence. Why go through that door when you don’t even know what’s waiting on the other side? Why risk it when you could stay here, safe and sound?”

But even as she trembled, Qing didn’t collapse. She didn’t fall to her knees.

Instead, she looked back at the girl. And shook her head.

“Oh. So you’re not the Nine Heavens Mystic Maiden after all.”

The girl’s body stretched and grew, transforming into a stunningly beautiful woman.

A woman whose beauty was so breathtaking that every time Qing saw her own reflection, she was startled by it.

A beauty that never got old, no matter how many times she looked.

The woman—Qing’s mirror image—reached out her hand. “Give it to me.”

But Qing shook her head, taking a step back.

“Not yet. Wait. Just wait a little longer. Do you really think you can handle what’s on the other side?”

Qing chuckled, still trembling.

“What? You’re not giving it to me? It doesn’t matter. It’s mine anyway.”

And suddenly, a sword was in her hand.

A rusty, broken blade. The Moonlight Sword.

Yeah. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

My Moonlight Sword must be starving. I guess I’ve neglected to feed it.

Tomorrow was always terrifying. The unknown evil always lay in wait for tomorrow.

But when had Qing ever known what tomorrow would bring?

Even so, she hadn’t died yet. She couldn’t die.

Because tomorrow might be better.

Maybe tomorrow, she’d catch a rat with this sword.

Or a kind-hearted passerby might take pity on her and toss her a coin.

Or maybe she’d earn enough skill points to take down that bastard Wang Gojin.

Yeah. Tomorrow would be fine.

It was always scary, but she’d survived until now, hadn’t she? She could do it again.

Qing raised her hand high.

Even though she was still shaking, even though she was still terrified, she believed she could do it.

She believed she could make it through.

Her hand fell.

And the Moonlight Sword gleamed with a cold, blue light.

A slash tore through the massive wall.

Thuuuuuummmm.

The sound of the world tipping over.

The wall shuddered, slowly collapsing backward, a colossal monolith crumbling to dust.

A dense cloud of earth and rubble rose, swallowing the sky.

As the dust settled, Qing stared at what lay beyond.

“What the hell. There’s nothing there.”

She smiled, a slow, radiant grin.

****

Seomun Surin shot to her feet.

Just like that. Suddenly.

All the martial artists in the VIP section rose as well, eyes wide, holding their breaths.

They watched in awe as a young martial artist finally broke free from her shell.

A faint starlight appeared for the first time—a weak but unmistakable glow.

A martial artist forging her own path, shaping her own destiny.

The spectators fell silent.

Even those who didn’t understand the intricacies of martial arts knew that something monumental was happening.

A star was being born. A new star, staking its place in the vast universe, revealing its true colors for the very first time.

And so, the divinity released its first cry.

The crowd gasped, a collective exhale that emptied their lungs.

Before them stood a single blade.

If they looked at the woman holding the sword, they couldn’t see the sword.

If they focused on the sword, they couldn’t see the woman.

Woman and sword had merged, indistinguishable, a single entity—the swordsman and her blade, moving as one.

A person and a sword, a sword and a person, dancing.

In Qing’s dantian, various qi clashed and tangled, each vying to be the first to burst forth.

This was the first time they’d ever combined into starlight.

A definitive moment, an irrefutable proof of her existence.

Colors swirled and flowed—a gentle yellow like the setting sun, a soft green like spring leaves, a black so deep it swallowed everything, a white so cold it chilled the air, and a vivid, seductive red.

The Five Colors, the fundamental hues of the universe, bloomed as flower petals, scattering across the battlefield.

Countless sword auras danced like flower petals, weaving through the air, a brilliant, dazzling display of color.

It was a breathtaking spectacle—one that felt like it could go on forever. One that you wished would never end.

But beauty is always fleeting. No matter how magnificent, it eventually withers and fades.

The colors that had filled the sky and the earth vanished, leaving nothing but empty air.

A collective sigh escaped the crowd—a sound of profound disappointment.

And at the center of it all, Qing opened her eyes.

“Hah. Well, that wasn’t much.”

“Lady Seomun? Just now... what was that...?”

Gongsun Yoye’s voice trembled with excitement.

She couldn’t believe what she had just seen.

“That technique—what was that?”

Qing tilted her head, blinking innocently.

“Huh? Did I do something? Sorry, was I just standing there spacing out? Anyway, I broke through the wall. That means I’m officially Transcendent Qing now. Go ahead, call me Supreme Qing. Now, let’s go again—”

Before she could finish, Qing’s knees buckled, and she collapsed.

It felt exactly like that time when she first completed the Endless Flow Training. Every muscle in her body was screaming, “We’re done! We’re overworked! Just kill us already!” as they all went on strike simultaneously.

“Huh... huh?”

Qing tried to circulate her inner qi to force herself up, but her dantian was completely empty. Not a single trace of energy remained—not even a wisp of the most basic inner force.

Qing had never completely drained her dantian like this before. It was unsettling, to say the least.

All that was left was the Pacheon Demonic Qi—dense and heavy as a boulder, completely unresponsive.

Not that it was of any use to her anyway.

But now even the tiny bit of qi that she could still control had vanished.

What the hell? Is reaching the transcendent level supposed to reset everything?

Instead of filling you up, does it just empty you out?

“Ugh... um... I don’t think I can keep fighting. Sorry. I was really getting into it, too. Referee! Hey, ref—”

Just as Qing was about to call the referee to forfeit the match—

Crash!

The entire floating platform trembled violently. The planks shattered and splintered, and the whole stage came crashing down into the water below.

Splash!

Qing plunged into the canal.

Luckily, the water was littered with broken planks, chunks of wood floating like makeshift rafts.

Qing reached out to grab onto one of the sturdier pieces, but—

Yeah, right!

Updat𝓮d from freewēbnoveℓ.com.

Every muscle in her body screamed in unison.

Her muscles, pushed far beyond their limits during her transcendent awakening, were now rebelling against her.

Every fiber of her body spasmed with cramps. Even her jaw muscles seized up, locking her teeth together painfully.

“Ack! Cramps! Help—gurk—water—gulp—cramps!”

Her arms, her legs, her shoulders, her back, even ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ her neck muscles—all of them seized at once, each muscle group unleashing its vengeance upon her.

Even her jaw was cramping up. Why? Since when do jaws get cramps?!

Qing didn’t know it, but jaw cramps were surprisingly common. Eat too vigorously, and you might end up with a locked jaw.

What she really should’ve been worried about were her abs. Cramps in the abdominal muscles were extremely rare, and yet here she was, writhing in agony as her core muscles twisted and seized.

“Urrggh—blub—gurk—gah—kehh—ugh...”

The muscles in her jaw twitched so violently that she couldn’t even scream properly. Instead, she just choked on mouthful after mouthful of water.

Water shot up her nose, burning her sinuses like liquid fire.

Her mind went blank. Help. Someone, please help...

As the world started to fade to black, she thought she saw her master’s face.

And that was how the grand martial arts competition came to a pitiful, anticlimactic end.

****

The original plan was for the winner and runner-up to step forward and offer their formal greetings after the final match.

But thanks to Qing’s “quick demolition” of the floating platform, that plan was now completely ruined.

According to later accounts, the event organizers let out genuine, heartfelt screams of despair.

The military committee, responsible for scheduling the event, now had to scrap all their plans and start from scratch. They screamed.

The finance committee, who had been hoping to sell the dismantled platform for scrap wood, was so overwhelmed by existential dread that they couldn’t even muster a scream.

“Wait. Me? I did that?”

Qing blinked, dazed and confused.

Sword and body as one? I merged with my sword?

How the hell is that even possible?

How does a person merge with a sword?

The expression on Seomun Surin’s face said it all.

Oh. She’s completely clueless.

It looked like Qing had just fallen into a transcendent state by sheer accident.

Even if she didn’t remember it, her body had experienced it, which was still a huge deal.

At the very least, she’d reached the transcendent level, and that was no small feat.

On top of that, she had just set a new record—the youngest martial artist to reach the transcendent level in Murim history.

Seomun Qing, female martial artist, age twenty.

Her name would be engraved in history as the youngest to ever reach such a level.

Fortunately, Qing’s utterly humiliating display wouldn’t be recorded in the official history books.

The youngest winner of the Dormant Dragon Martial Contest, the first female winner, the youngest transcendent martial artist, and the youngest female martial artist to achieve all these milestones simultaneously—

Nearly drowned to death because of a full-body muscle cramp immediately after her victory.

Thankfully, Seomun Surin had been keeping a close eye on her disciple’s condition.

Riding her sword like a missile, she shot across the water, scooping Qing up with the precision of a military strike.

If she hadn’t, the martial arts world would have been left with a tragic tale of what could have been.

“If only the Divine Maiden Sect’s disciple hadn’t drowned that day, the second Unrivaled Heavenly Monarch might have risen to power.”

Such pointless speculation about the “what-ifs” of history.